Launching today, the Human Rights Watch Film Festival for London 2019! Bearing witness to human rights violations, the festival brings to life human rights abuses through storytelling to challenge individuals to empathise and demand justice for all people. Check it out! twitter.com/hrwfilmfestiva…

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Today the Shubbak Festival reveals its 2019 programme of Arab arts and culture events to be held 28 June–14 July in town. Featuring over 150 artists based in the Arab region, Europe and UK, London will light up for this one! Check it out! @shubbakfestivalshubbak.co.uktwitter.com/shubbakfestiva…

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Category: London

Mid-February 2011. A surprise email arrived in my inbox from James O Jenkins, a professional British photographer, asking if I would like to model for a portrait to represent Libya’s participation at the London Olympics as part of the ‘World In London’ photography project.

At the time I hadn’t even realised that Libya would be taking part in the Olympics as sports and politics have been inter-mixed with dangerous consequences under Qaddafi. The recent kidnapping and later release of Nabil Al-Alam, Libya’s President of the National Olympic Committee (NOC), only highlighted the problem. My initial response was therefore hesitant and reluctant.

Most certainly I didn’t wish to represent Libya with any political association with the regime and I knew that Libyan sports had been hijacked by Saadi and Mohammed Qaddafi for quite some time. The former had been the obsessive control freak behind the national football team who forbade any popular support for individual players by banning the calling out of their names. He also pressurised referees to favour his Tripoli Ahli team, whilst the latter was the head of the NOC.

So much for fair play and the spirit of honest competition that typifies athleticism on the world stage. Despite all these challenges, it seems that five courageous Libyans did qualify to take part in the individual sports. They were: Ali Mabrouk El-Zaidi (marathon runner), Sofyan El-Gidi (butterfly swimmer), Ahmed Koeseh (judo), Hala Gezah (100-metre sprint), and Ali El-Kekli (weightlifting).

But then this was a critical time for Libya and the Revolution had kicked off and Jenkins assured me there would be no political message to my participation. So I took the risk to represent Libya in the hope that the country will be free by July 2012. I also did inform him that there were many gorgeous and much younger models that he could choose from, but he insisted on me because he had come across my blog.

He told me: “I was given the list of countries that were available and I don’t really know why I chose Libya. It’s worth noting that I chose it before the start of the revolution and the portrait was not to do with the political troubles there. It is about London and you being Libyan in this city.”

My readers know that if there is anything I am super-passionate about, it really is London. So in the end I wanted to celebrate being a Londoner and a Libyan simultaneously; and, to also feel proud in taking part in this project.

Finally on the first day of the Olympics the Libya portrait was unveiled, along with the other 203 images of the other Londoners who were representing their countries taking part in the Olympics.

The Photographers’ Gallery, which commissioned Jenkins and 200 other photographers – who were picked from London’s most noted, talented and emerging talent – kept the project top-secret for three years. They admit it has been their most ambitious project to date and are now super pleased with the outcome.

The World In London Project’s artistic ambition and desire is to showcase through photography London’s rich cultural diversity and to celebrate its incredible mix of people from all over the world. The exhibition is free for residents and tourists to view. The 204 large-scale portraits will be at two sites for the duration of the Olympics: the external wall of the BT London Live site in Victoria Park, E3, and across the Park House city-block in Oxford Street, W1.

Jenkins and I are very happy with the final Libya portrait and the choice of dress and background. Hopefully it will please everyone for its simplicity and the intended layers of meaning about what it means to be a Libyan. I did also take part in a related project, the ‘Oral Histories’, which will feature a recorded interview to go with my portrait.

In the coming days, I intend to fully support the Libyan athletes and hope they will do us proud. For the future also I hope that more young boys and girls can pursue sports for the joy and thrill of open and fair competition and to see it as a great measure of personal achievement.

The Jubilee weekend has brought out a British person inside of me I never knew existed. First I went to the Battersea Park Jubilee Festival for the River Pageant and was super excited to be surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people. All trying to get a glimpse of the lady of the hour, she is celebrating sixty years on the throne. The crowd on the day totalled over a million and I can’t think of any other world superstar, other than HM Queen Elizabeth II, who can manage even half that much.

It took me back to December 1996 when I first pledged to be faithful and bear true allegiance to the Queen Elizabeth II, her heirs and successors according to law. It was an important day as I got my British passport, but with the only pity being that they didn’t have a citizenship test nor a citizenship ceremony as part of the process, which I would have loved to do.

Since I have felt grateful to the Queen as my new shiny ID gave me access to things and places otherwise not possible with my Libyan nationality. It has enabled me to feel free and confidant in traveling the world without hassle. Not only that, I did study English Law and learned about the UK government system, the British constitution and the role of the Monarchy.

On Sunday in great British fashion nobody was excluded from the festivities. The crowds were a reflection of the diversity of the country, with not just natives but people of all ethnicities come together to celebrate. My guess is we the latter have all been resident in the UK long enough to feel and know that we belong and as we have been granted our rights and protection of civil liberties within the legal framework.

The weekend has reaffirmed that HM the Queen, who has been around longer than any other monarch in modern history, will always be an icon of the archetypical mother of a nation, offering herself as the symbol for all of us to come together, regardless of any divides. Her patience and resilience are admirable qualities; and, even as some believe the royal family should be abolished, this Queen has earned all the respect that she gets.

Not only does she take seriously her duties to serve her country, she never takes more liberties than what is permitted. She has devoted her whole life to her role and has never complained or begged tiredness or sickness in all the years she has been on the throne and working. Now she is 86.

It was truly wonderful to behold all of this, with everybody carrying and waving the Union Jack; or, they were holding items with the design on hats, sunglasses, scarves, afro wigs, pins, hair bands, shoes, suits and candy floss.

After Battersea where I couldn’t get a good view of the River Thames, my friends and I managed to tube it to Waterloo to see the atmosphere by the Southbank. It was electric there too. The Royal Festival Hall, the Queen Elizabeth Hall and the NFT were full of people standing on the balconies with lots of families and children too. Even though it got colder and wetter, it was beautiful to see the whole width of the river bank and the bridges jam-packed with spectators.

I was soaked by the end of it, but I am so glad I didn’t stay at home and just proxy view it on TV. This way I got British fever and it won’t escape me for a bit.

For the thirty-three year old Colombian artist Dairo Vargas, putting a smile on a child’s face is not just the occasional nod to charity, but a lifetime personal commitment. From his early years, his mother encouraged him to give and together they would visit youngsters affected by severe poverty, homelessness, abuse and crime in the capital city of Bogota and other Colombian towns. They would spend hours with the children, play with them and offer them gifts of toys, food and clothes.

As Vargas has gone on to become a graphic designer and painter, he’s kept up the passion to offer his skills and efforts for this delicate cause. Even living in London since 2005, he annually raises money in creative ways to help give to the La Escaltera kindergarten in Agrado which educates some 80 underprivileged children.

He said: “The Christmas parties for the little ones are always a big hit. We would bring them things as little as ice-cream and balloons which they love, to buying them more books and educational equipment for their future development.”

It is a sad and difficult truth that deprived, impoverished and hurt children are to be found everywhere in the world. As synchronicity would have it, last November, when Vargas was attending a Firecracker Event in Yorkshire, he heard a young Barnardo’s girl give a moving speech about her past which prompted him to make direct contact with the charity.

Vargas: “This girl had faced unimaginable things in her life but had so much strength to recover from the abuse she suffered. It’s unbelievable to think what some children have to go through. But now she has her own family and a job. It’s good to know that what happened in her childhood isn’t shaping her future, she is.”

The project with Barnardo’s has turned into the current exhibition – ‘A Thousand Words’ – at the Reading Room Gallery, Soho. Vargas dedicated much of the year to make the seventeen paintings on display and volunteered to teach Art lessons to Barnardo’s students at the High Close School in Berskshire that proved a huge success.

He said: “At first, they were hesitant. But I wanted to reassure them that there is nothing like the perfect image. That doesn’t exist. I wanted them to create their own portraits with confidence in response to my sketches. Art is above all about expression of feelings, emotions and honesty.”

Vargas’s paintings speak volumes on the theme of lost childhood and approach the psychological links between dreams and reality for the children. My favourite is the ‘Chiquita de Rojo’ that is an image of a little girl with a red face and braided hair who seems shy and preoccupied. Half the proceeds of her sale will help give 25 families access to Barnardo’s Advice Phone Line, which helps parents and carers to understand the child’s grief and look at practical ways to support them.

There is also the ‘Dreams’ painting of a black girl surrounded by butterflies. Half the proceeds of her sale will be go to the ‘Leaving Care’ project that provides a range of housing and support for young adults leaving residential, foster or family care. And there is more, including three little sculptures up for a donation amount.

As an artist Vargas has been self-taught although he started early. He confessed that as a fourteen year old that he always found himself doing his brothers’ and friends’ art homework and helping with the school murals. He said: “This was the best practice I ever got. But I was still afraid I wouldn’t get a job as an artist, so I studied graphic design and marketing instead. I even worked with JWT in Bogota for some time.”

But then he wanted to travel and came to London to learn English. Although art wasn’t big on the agenda and the plan was to stay for only nine months, he found himself taking out the colours and acrylics in his suitcase. He started to sketch and painted anything he could find of intrigue and even used cardboard to work with. After with some more money he was able to buy bigger canvasses and this gave him the push to study at Kensington and Chelsea College of Art circa 2008.

Since he has committed to being a full-time artist and works right through the nights, finding lots of inspiration especially from William Turner and a love for depicting natural landscapes and studying light movement. This is his true calling and his work has been exhibited in London, Europe and Colombia. On his website, one can see the broader scope of his art portfolio and developing technique.

For the future Vargas tells me: “I now want to focus more on conceptual images and the abstract world. One of my current projects, The City, is all about the energy of big cities where I look at human movement and activity as well as links to the different buildings and architecture.

“For me, cities are like a positive virus where there is chaos but also beauty and order. They are also more alive than one thinks and London in particular has this incredible feel to it. I love it even with the weather, as I come from a hot country. I hope to stay for as long as I can and then maybe move on to New York, another place I find fascinating and worth exploring.”

A new underground dining-movement is taking London by storm and its secret chefs are experimenting with world cuisine in the privacy of their homes. With the desire to cook for others and share their food, they are happy to set up their own tables, cutlery and plates and to create a convivial atmosphere. With a new post-code falling to the trend every week, nobody knows the full count of these secret dining chefs and clubs. Just today, I heard that the movement has reached Turin, Italy.

So who are these guys and what are they up to? As luck would have it, I was invited to a rare feast to celebrate the birthday of an American lady named Shelley who is a secret chef who goes by the name of ‘Nomad Chef’. She took the initiative to get eight secret chefs together in her beautiful home in the Holland Park area, whom she had found online via social media. As fellow foodies, each brought a dish with which to impress so that there was endless fare that I lost count after the eighth course.

United by a deep love of all things culinary, the secret chefs agree that one of the reasons for going underground is that they yearn for good honest conversation, the type of which can only take place around a private dining room table with an intimate atmosphere. Even as many of them have day jobs too, they can’t stop themselves from collecting recipes and wanting to try them out on others and feeling great when they get positive feedback. Shunning restaurants is one of the things they have in common too.

Over dinner I was able to chat with the eight chefs and realised how they derive great pleasure from feeding others; and, they also all agreed that this becomes addictive and unstoppable. Like chefs in normal restaurants, they are on a mission to tap into the rich diversified history of food, cooking different cuisine and experimenting with fusion and adapting menus.

On the night, we were treated to: watermelon with feta cheese and mint salad, Moroccan tortilla with black olives, red peppers and harissa, Swedish fried meat balls with a beetroot and apple salad, Scandinavian seafood and turkey sandwich cake, Chinese pancakes with dill, tofu, egg and yellow bean sauce, Vietnamese pork patties with chili, sugar and lime juice, a lasagne with pancetta, pork sausage, parmesan, rocket and field mushrooms and a Mexican enchilada casserole. Not to be out-shown for dessert we had Mitty’s scrumptious ‘Sweet Justice’ dark chocolate cake that perfectly sealed the banquet.

Mingling With The Secret Chefs

Chatting with our gentle American hostess Shelley, she said the Nomad Chef persona was her way of healing the pain and the darkness of having lost her only son a year ago who was only 32 years old. She had shared with him an infatuation for food and mother and son had spent many days together in the kitchen cooking.

She said that her son had been a successful chef himself and had cooked private dinners for rock stars, actors and anyone who heard about his fusion food. To honour his memory, she got into secret dining and now offers amazing soul food, specialising in vegetarian dishes. With her French partner Bruno helping her in the kitchen, they take painstaking care to ensure their guests enjoy every mouthful and feel welcome.

I next spoke with Nicos who is a super confidant 28 years old who has just arrived from the United States. He boasts that he turned down a sous-chef position to work for Gordon Ramsey and that his Meridian Supper Club, based in Greenwich, offers seasonal, free range and locally sourced food that he buys from Borough’s Market.

Coming to London to change his life and travel, he said: “The restaurant business, which I have been in for fifteen years, is a tough lifestyle. You keep working for others who don’t appreciate the time and energy you put in. I would rather be poor then to give my life to 35K a year and slave for 65 hours a week.”

I then chatted to the petite Ning who is the creator of the Mama Lan Supper Club. A chartered accountant by day, her family’s history in the food business and old recipes used at home took her to the kitchen and cooking for others. Based in Cricklewood, she serves traditional Northern Chinese fare and teaches her guests a little bit about her cultural heritage.

The other secret chefs included the Somalian Ayan and her Swedish friend Pia who host the Claptonian Club in E5. Originally an Art gallery, they have turned the venue into a food venture where they rustle up a choice between East African fusion and Scandinavian recipes. Lastly, I met the hip Nigeria Shay who is a founding member of the Rebel Dining Society in EC1 where secret dinners can summon up to a hundred guests. His mission is to push the boundaries of fine dining and to also brings experimental live music and art performances too.

The Underground Dining Experience

Everyone is welcome to the supper clubs but you need to book in advance and know which cuisine is going to be served. Please note also that a financial contribution is usually made to the host or hostess with the rule to bring your own alcohol. There are on occasions also cooking workshops and demos and special brunches for families with children too.

August 2008 saw the launch of ‘The School of Life’ in London, an adult open-type university led by a group of intellectuals and artists whose goal is to bring modern individuals with a hectic life-style – and presumably with not enough time or a place to think! – together in a safe environment to discuss the essence of life through the core subjects of: Love, Family, Work, Play and Politics.

By drawing upon the wisdom of ancient and modern philosophy, literature, the visual arts and psychotherapy, the aim of their classes, workshops, dinners and other gatherings is to provide good ideas to live by, offer guidance in turbulent times and to re-introduce certain core values to a vastly secular and existentially plagued world.

Although fronted by a small shop in the Bloomsbury area, their unusual style and structure of education seems to have struck a cord in many ready participants’ hearts and minds. The number of their students keeps expanding; and, in order to book a place on one of their courses or to join in a breakfast or dinner meeting can take up to months in advance. Not to mention their intellectual holidays.

So I decided to see what the fuss was all about and managed to get a ticket for a Sunday sermon. This was to be the tenth of the series where the idea is for the School to get an expert to speak for 45 minutes about a hot topic that has a moral or philosophical edge to it. These are conducted at the metaphoric parish and with this particular sermon going to be led by none other than the comedienne turned psychotherapist Ruby Wax on the subject of ‘How to Love Your Ego.’

The Parish Congregation

On the Sunday, I made my way to Conway Hall in Red Lion Square for the sermon to begin at 11.30 am. Although it was pouring with rain outside with windy, there were about 400 (the full capacity at Conway Hall) super keen people ready and chatting in the reception area before being let in. Many were regulars as they greeted each other and fell into conversation, as we waited to be let in. Once inside the hall, I got a good seat near to the front and I noticed also clearly etched at the top of the stage was a quote: “To Thine Own Self Be True”. All I good I thought, just the right motto to live by.

But then bizarrely, a very tall fellow (seven-foot point-four inches man – I asked him!) was wearing a shiny red leotard with small red lycra horns and acting cheeky and coming up to people. I thought how strange this was, but then maybe because it was the Halloween weekend and they were just getting into the spirit of things to break the ice.

But then it got a bit more bizarre and frankly weird. For once we were all seated and welcomed by the host speaker, we were ordered to stand up to sing a hymn. This is not anything from the Bible but the lyrics of the Eighties popular song by The Righteous Brothers – “You’ve lost that loving feeling.” And yes, to my horror, everyone started to sing and sway and getting all worked up. I sang along, of course, but wondered what was the ethical or philosophical significance of this? And what does this song hold for modern man?

Anyhow, once this was out of the way, Ruby Wax finally took to the podium for her speech, but not before the place was screaming down with cheers and claps for her.

Ruby On How to Love your Ego

Ruby said that the title for the subject was not her idea and warned that her speech would not be of the self or group-congratulatory type of the popular – but intellectually derided – American self-help programmes best known for their ego or confidence boosting. Rather, she wanted to discuss the essence of the “I” or better the “ich” in German as the centre of the self and person and one’s core identity.

Ruby expounded on the experience of fame and fortune. In particular, she said that being in the public eye might well provide one with a huge surge to the ego, but that will only lead to a greater fall when the attention dies out. In her own words, she said: “When you are up and flying close to the sun, people will treat you as a star with perks and privileges. But once you are down in the midst of despair, nobody will hear your call.”

She then argued that the reality of fame has an ugly side that is not often spoken about; that the public’s fascination with stars is also laced with a bigger resentment and a secret wish and desire for your demise. Further, that when you are high on fame, it is easy to create a different persona to your real self and get confused; but, that unfortunately, the real you eventually does come out in pathology.

With her signature irony and jokes, she confided about her childhood demons of being bullied at school, being fat and unpopular and then having tough parents. But that one day, “the loser learnt to speak comedy” – and that is how she found herself on the public stage.

Wax of course became widely known in the Nineties when she started to interview celebrities in an up, very close and personal style; and with her witty approach in handling these became a TV favourite to watch. However, as she explains, despite being at the height of all this fame and success, her real self came back to haunt her and she experienced an awful melt-down, became depressed and found herself at the Priory Clinic.

Closer to the end of her speech, she says that, fortunately, it was the shock of this stint in rehab that made her decide to finally deal with her monsters; by questioning her life choices, re-assessing her values; and, significantly, returning to her studies in psychology and neuroscience in order to find out what goes on in the mind. And that through these studies, she has come to learn the importance of understanding and harnessing “detached compassion – not to be confused with love – cause love can be stifling.” And just as it was getting to be very interesting, her forty-five minutes were done and she had to wrap up.

Once Wax got off the stage, the crowds were clapping again with myself included. But before I knew it, the devil in the red leotard returned to the front of the hall in order to begin the chanting of the second hymn – this time the lyrics of Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror” – to which I chose not to sing along. Personally, I do not believe that Jackson is the right teacher for me on the matter of looking at or studying myself in the mirror!

When the song eventually came to its agonising end, we were invited to drink tea or coffee and have biscuits to mingle and chat with other attendees. Although I could have stayed to talk with some people, I decided to leave because I felt a little out of place and I wanted some time to think to myself.

I admit I enjoyed the talk and was pleasantly surprised by Wax’s down to earth approach. At least it made me think and scratch my head for a whole hour after as I walked back home from Holborn to Maida Vale. Even the following morning, I found myself still troubled with the intricacies of the subject of the “ego” and whether or not I agreed with the gist of what she said. In fact, it was only after I wrote back my notes that I was finally able to make some kind of intelligent sense out of it.

However, this also made me wonder: Would the average man or woman on the street have been able to understand any of this philosophising? Would it give them any guidance in these turbulent times? For even this is speculation as very few can afford to regularly attend these sermons by the proclaimed intellectuals, artists and philosophers of our time.

Sadly I have to sat that I felt a little intimidated by the composition of this parish congregation and its leaders, even if they did try in many ways to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome. But I felt that you already have to be privileged nd of a certain class in order to fit in or to make sense of what they are on about.

I can’t lie that I won’t be seduced to return for another subject dearer to me, as I’m a glutton for punishment. The truth is there are very few places in London – bar universities – where one can address the big philosophic issues of life and being without feeling out of place. Just please don’t ask me to sing along to another Michael Jackson song! And please get rid of the red devil!

I do also have a serious suggestion to make to the School of Life. Could they perhaps begin to offer some of their classes, workshops and events to the less fortunate? Or maybe to introduce a community project to reach those who are truly in desperate need of ideas to live by? For that would definitely turn them into a more benevolent social enterprise and begin to truly personify the wisdom of the ancient and modern thoughts. Can they open their doors to everyone? I dare them to!

Reading of Prince Harry’s first official trip to New York last week, he visited Ground Zero to meet up with New York’s Governor and the emergency fighters who helped quench that mad raging fire. There Prince Harry paid tribute to the victims of Nine-Eleven and opened the British Memorial Garden in Hanover Square to honour the 67 British casualties. He then planted a Magnolia tree.

Although this was a solemn affair, the star-struck Americans were completely bowled over by this young bad-boy royal. Many adoring young and old female fans had come from all over the United States, to catch a glimpse of him as he lay a wreath and hoped to get in line to shake his hand.

Exactly the following day, fantastic, racy and sexy pictures came out of the Prince as he played Polo at Governor’s Island. Not disrespectfully, the small game event turned out to be a greater highlight of his short visit.

New York’s stars and celebrities all fought to get a seat; and, the likes of Madonna, her toy-boy Jesus, Kate Hudson, the Rapper LL Cool J and his wife reportedly paid up to $50,000 to be there – all going towards charity of course.

Admittedly, he is a handsome prince and I understand how this attractive, young and athletic male on horseback – all sweaty and hot from riding – is a turn on for any woman, irrespective of age. Still, I’ve never manically followed the Royals and I cannot understand the frenzy surrounding their love and fascination with horses. But who could I judge the Americans when I don’t know a thing about appreciating a game of Polo?

Call it synchronicity. On the following Monday, I got an unexpected invite to attend a game of Polo between the English Guards and the United Gulf Cooperation Council, the GCC. They were having their annual match at Smith’s Lawn in Windsor Great Park and I was promised there would be drinks, lunch, a charity auction, speeches and scones with clotted cream.

When we arrived after a two-hour drive from central London, we found the place surrounded by greenery, peace and quiet. As we entered the white gates, the ushers indicated where to park the car and led us to the large white marquee where everyone had already gathered for lunch.

It was clear that this was not your average run-of-the-mill sports event but something highly exclusive. There were no more than a hundred and fifty attendees and the women were dressed in designer outfits and the men in formal suits and tie. The tables inside were also decorated with expensive flowers and tea lights and the especially prepared food served on china plates and silver cutlery.

Unusually for such a small group, there were ten professional photographers snapping away and a couple of Arabic TV crews taking coverage and interviewing the guests. In jest, I was nudged to be on good behaviour because I was in the presence of royalty. What? Royalty? My friend pointed to the head table.

Sitting in traditional garb was HRH Prince Abdel Aziz Bin Ahmed of Saudi Arabia surrounded by dignitaries. Next to our marquee also was the Royal Box for HM, the Queen for when she arrives. Apparently, it is tradition that she presents the Polo trophies. Ashamedly, I squealed in delight before I could check myself! I was excited to see, for the first time, this constitutional imperative of an individual and the face of Great Britain. Where was she? I couldn’t wait to see her.

Before her arrival, the game started. I thought to learn a few things. Polo is a truly graceful sport with four members on horseback playing for each team. They have mallet sticks with which to hit the ball – usually made of wood or plastic – in order to reach the goal post on either side of the field.

It is played in four quarters or six round – called chukkas – that normally last seven minutes with up to thirty seconds for overtime. And, in between, the horses rest for some minutes to recharge. That is it! Nothing too complicated. But it is clear how the players have great skill and training to get the horses to play in such an elegant way.

On the day, the GCC team won four and a half points to three by the Guards. When it was over, the players disembarked from their horses and got ready to receive their prizes.

“This is my moment to see her!” I thought. So, I ran near to the field for the ceremony and minded I didn’t slip on the grass with my high heels. As expected, everyone else was trying to get a good view too. And she finally walked out of her Box. Total silence descended and then, quickly, the cameras began to click and roll. It was all I could hear for five minutes- click, snap, click.

HM the Queen did not disappoint. Close up, she is impeccable charm, style and refinement. For the occasion, she was wearing a floral white and fuchsia dress with matching long jacket, white shoes and signature pearls. As it was slightly raining, she also had a matching pink umbrella held by her assistant.

I cannot say that I heard her speak or that I shook her hand. She just stood five metres away from me and presented the BMG Trophy and medals. Before I had more time to satisfy my curiosity, it all ended and she was escorted back and everyone cheered and clapped for her.

I realise now that I was got too eager and excited to see the Queen. So, yes, I’ll eat and enjoy the humble pie I owe to the Americans. As for the game of Polo, I highly recommend you go if you ever get an invite. Just dress your best and take your camera. You never know which royal you might bump into.

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